


A Question of Lust

by winterstorrm



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterstorrm/pseuds/winterstorrm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius is getting a little hot and bothered as he enjoys his favourite pastime: watching the manor’s gardener, Harry Potter, work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Lust

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Singlemomsummer for the beta. Written for hpsmfest 2011. (Age difference 18/44)

Scorpius likes to watch, it’s his new favourite pastime. He’s never considered himself the kind of person who behaves like this; he’d always considered it to be uncouth and quite frankly demeaning of a Malfoy to behave in this way, especially over Harry Potter. Yet – yet – he can’t help himself. The man is fucking perfect, and not watching the man work was not an option.

He’s fucking perfect and Scorpius wants him.

He’s learnt from his father that Malfoys always get what they want, and that even though it might not come to them immediately, a patient man will reap the rewards.

Scorpius doesn’t care how or why Harry Potter came to work for his father, all he cares about is the sweat that is running down Harry’s perfectly sculpted back, weaving a delicate path from the back of his neck, over shoulders and along the rippling planes to the small of his back where it disappears beneath the waistband of his low slung muggle jeans.

He wonders if Harry realises what a cliché he is, and then thinks that Harry Potter was unlikely to care about that. From what Scorpius knows of him, he’s always had a finger up to authority, at least since the War. In the end it lost him his wife, who had hoped to climb up into the high echelons of the Ministry and had instead found herself married to a gardener.

Ginny Potter must’ve been fucking crazy to give him up.

Harry stands and stretches, the jeans falling lower on his hips, and as he turns this affords Scorpius a view of Harry’s lean muscled chest, tanned from all the time he spends outdoors, and the dark whorls of hair that taper down from the moderate sprinkling over his nut brown nipples and disappear beneath his waistband.

Scorpius goes from half-mast to hard in the amount of time it takes for his retinas to register the image into his brain. Fuck. From that he’s imagining himself walking over there, wrapping his arms around the saviour, burying his nose in his neck and licking the sweat before it can escape down his torso, pressing himself in close, his erection in the crack of Harry’s arse, and Harry turning and- Merlin.

“Dinky,” he whispers hoarsely, not entirely sure he’s capable of a lot else in the vocal department at the moment. The house elf appears and before she can ask what he wants, Scorpius is ordering iced tea. He’s not sure yet if he’s going to drink it or wear it, but he needs something to cool himself down with.

Harry, apparently oblivious to the small matter of Scorpius’ presence on the veranda, let alone his current predicament, chooses that moment to up end a pitcher of water over his head and Scorpius knows then that no amount of iced tea was going to help with scratching this itch.

-0-

The boy has been watching him since day one; since the moment Harry gave into Draco’s plea that he accept the commission and work his garden magic on the manor. Harry could afford to be picky about which clients he took on; he had a waiting list of over two years long, and the only reason he had slotted Draco in was because he still felt he owed a debt to Narcissa for saving his life all those years ago; never mind that he had subsequently saved Draco, and testified in the Malfoys favour at the Wizengamot.

Although, truth be told, Harry had his own agenda in coming to work here for a while; he had demons of his own to exorcise about the war and Malfoy Manor’s place in it. Not that the place bore the slightest resemblance to the manor of Harry’s memory, and he had to hand it to Draco, he had certainly transformed the interior from the cold and imposing backdrop it had once been. Now Draco wanted the grounds transformed. Enter Harry.

Harry’s work was very much in demand both in magical and Muggle circles. Of course, the Muggles had no idea that magic went into the creation of their dream garden, they fell for the glamour’s that Harry would create to give the illusion that he had a small team working for him. He hadn’t had a day without paid employment since he had set himself up in the business.

He loved his job. It kept him ticking along, as there was something missing these days; he’d been single – give or take the odd fling - since splitting up with Ginny nearly fifteen years ago, and he missed having someone to come home to. Since Lily had gone to Hogwarts and he hadn’t had any of the kids around for half of the week whilst they were at school, life had been pretty lonely.

Work kept him busy. For some reason though, returning to the manor hadn’t had the effect he had expected. The odd nightmare he’d still suffered about the dungeons and the screams of his friends felt completely separate from the warm home that it now was.

It was the presence of the blond boy that was far more disconcerting than any revisit to his nightmares. Considering that Harry could barely tolerate Draco Malfoy, his finding his son attractive – fuck it, utterly delectable – was somewhat disconcerting. The boy was tall, slender and the way he held himself – confidently yet somehow without the arrogant swagger of his father and grandfather before him – it was making Harry think things that he really should not be thinking about eighteen year old boys whom his own son counted amongst his friends.

Merlin, he needs to cool down just thinking about it. He grabs the pitcher of iced water one of the Malfoy elves has left for him under a permanent cooling charm and upends it over his head. It worked to cool down his body temperature under the baking heat of the afternoon sun. It did absolutely nothing for his arousal.

He was going to have to go out tonight and find some random hot young thing in a Muggle bar to fuck him senseless. It had been a while, that was all this attraction was. There was no reason to think that the Malfoy kid was something special.

-0-

“Dinky,” Scorpius asks when the elf reappears with his iced tea. “My parents haven’t made a surprise return from France, have they?” He hoped not, because he was pretty certain that what he was about to do would be very much frowned upon by his father. Astoria, he knew, would let Draco think she was horrified and once they were alone she would tell Scorpius that he should follow his instincts and live life the way he wanted, and not get embroiled in pure blood traditions the way that she and his father had been forced to. She would say something like, ‘Love who you want to love, not who you think you should.’ She’s had been saying variations of the same theme his whole life, but Scorpius found it hard to let go of the teachings of his grandfather, that he was a Malfoy and that Malfoys enjoyed a certain status in life, as was their right.

Until now, Scorpius hadn’t cared too much one way or the other, he’d been too busy coming to terms with being gay to be concerned about whether the person sucking his cock was pure blood or not. As it had happened, with him being in Slytherin, the lips had inevitably belonged to a pure blood.

He was certain that he could make an exception for Harry Potter. He wondered if that tongue would feel rough or smooth as it licked the come off his cock.

There was only one way to find out.

The sun was getting low in the sky and Harry’s working day would be drawing to a close, and if Scorpius doesn’t act now he wasn’t sure he’ll get the chance again – his parents could return early, or Harry could finish the job.

It was difficult to walk when his cock was as hard as it was, so Scorpius took it slowly, making sure that his approach was from an angle that Harry wouldn’t notice him until Scorpius was almost upon him.

When he was close enough to track the rivulets of sweat trickling down Harry’s back, he stalled, nerves getting the better of him, his mouth dry.

“Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to say what you came to say?” Harry asks, standing up straight and turning. Scorpius finds himself fixed in the famous green eyed gaze and knows he couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to. “No?” Harry shrugs and wipes his brow, the muscles in his chest rippling as he did so, and Scorpius emits an unbidden groan. “Sorry – what was that?” Harry raises an eyebrow at him then, before dropping his gaze to Scorpius’ toes and slowly taking in his cut-off jeans and skinny vest, before scanning his face with a smirk.

The gaze then returned to Scorpius’ crotch and he wants to melt into the ground; his erection was clearly formed behind the denim..

“What’s got you so excited?” Harry meets his eyes then, and somehow, Scorpius finds his voice and his confidence.

“Watching you,” he replies and waits, holding his breath.

“You’re very precocious,” Harry says, licking his lips. “Whatever would your father say to you offering yourself up to get fucked by Harry Potter?”

“I expect he’d say that no one fucks a Malfoy,” Scorpius flirts, his confidence soaring. “I was actually thinking that you would be the one getting fucked by me.”

Harry’s eyes widen in surprise and to Scorpius’ delight, there’s a faint flush to his cheeks that is not a result of the day’s physical labour. Scorpius is also pleased to note that Harry has not said no.

Scorpius steps forward and aligns his body flush with Potter’s, flicking his blue eyes to meet the clear green of Harry’s with a challenging quirk to his eyebrow. He knows he’s pushing this, but he has never wanted quite so badly before this moment.

He licks his lips and then twists his head to the right and runs his tongue across the seam of Harry’s lips, curling his long fingers over Harry’s exposed hipbones as he did so, pulling him closer.

For a long moment, Harry doesn’t move and Scorpius has a flash of concern that he’s sorely misjudged he situation. A moment later and Harry’s kissing him back, opening his mouth to Scorpius’ probing tongue, a dusty hand threading through Scorpius’ hair as he groans into the kiss.

Scorpius inches closer, his erection grinding into Harry’s thigh, and as quickly as it’s begun, Harry’s pushing him away, his breathing heavy as he says, “No, this is not going to happen, Malfoy.”

Harry steps back, his face frozen in shock at what he’s just done. Scorpius feels bereft from the loss of contact and sways forward, his hand reaching out for Harry. Harry recoils.

“Stay away from me,” he says and with a glance around him he Disapparates and Scorpius is left staring at empty space with his cock straining uncomfortably against his shorts.

“Fuck,” he says, and closes his eyes in frustration.

He had not expected the kiss to feel like that.

-0-

Harry goes to the muggle club that night, and he’s only there for half an hour before he admits to himself that there’s no chance that an encounter with someone else is even going to take the edge off his desire for Scorpius Malfoy. He’s about to go home when a blond, darker than Scorpius, and older, tips his head at Harry and Harry figures it can’t hurt to follow him into the back room – a talented tongue on his cock is what he needs.

When he comes it’s Scorpius Malfoy’s pale blue eyes that are looking up at him, not the brown of the man actually kneeling at his feet.

He’s going to have to get the Malfoy job finished sooner rather than later; if the boy tries it again, he’s unlikely to be able to resist.

-0-

Scorpius avoids Harry for the next three days, his pride wounded at the rejection. On the fourth day he’s on his bedroom balcony, trying to convince himself that he’s only there to read, and the fact that Harry’s levitating rocks off a pallet and onto the slope that Draco wants as a rockery almost beneath his window has no bearing on this decision.

On day five he can’t stand it anymore. He knows he’s probably going to make a fool of himself, but his parents have owled to say they’re coming back tomorrow and Scorpius knows this is his last chance. If Harry rejects him again then it’s only him and Scorpius who’ll ever know about it; it’s worth the risk, because Scorpius has relived that kiss many times in the last five days and he’s sure that Harry wanted him as much as he wanted Harry.

The weather is starting to turn when he’s finally plucked up the courage to go down there, his jeans and t-shirt carefully chosen to show his arse at its best and his flat abdomen if he were to lift his arms above his head.

“Hello, Harry,” he says and watches Harry freeze as his magic lowers the boulder he’s moving and he turns. He turns slowly to face Scorpius, just as the first raindrops begin to fall.

Scorpius considers casting a shield charm, but he likes the way the rain is wetting Harry’s t-shirt and making it cling to his nipples and flattening his wild black hair to his forehead.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asks as he wipes his fringe out of his widening eyes as they fix on Scorpius stepping closer.

“You,” Scorpius says and curls a hand around Harry’s neck and kisses him.

Overhead, there’s a deafening crack of thunder and the darkening sky lights up with a flash of lightening.

Neither man notices.

-0-

Harry knows he should resist. The kid is young enough to be his son. The bloody kid is friends with his son! Yet- His lips are soft against Harry’s, and his touch is sending a thrum of excitement through his magic unlike anything Harry has experienced in all of his forty-four years.

Something clicks into place and his inner voice is saying, ‘you’ve found him’ even as the rational part of him is fighting against responding.

Scorpius has one hand in his hair at the back of his neck and the other is sliding under the hem of his sodden t-shirt, the tentative stroke of the long pale fingers setting fire to Harry’s skin and complimenting the soaring magic in his blood.

Refusal ceases to be an option and he’s kissing him back, their tongues meeting and sending sensations to Harry’s toes, which curl inside his boots as his own arms go around the slender – taller – figure of Scorpius, as his own fingers slide beneath the waistband of the low slung jeans resting teasingly on his jutting hipbones.

Harry feels his erection pushing against the fastenings of his jeans and in that moment he wants nothing more than for them both to be naked, their cocks pressed together and-

Harry really needs to learn to remember that his wandless magic sometimes has a mind of its own; Scorpius gasps and he pulls back from Harry, “What the-?” Then his face splits into a smile that sends something curling inside Harry that has absolutely nothing to do with the sex he suspects they’re about to enjoy, and everything to do with the pounding his heart against Scorpius’.

They fall to the ground, Harry’s not sure if he pulled Scorpius or vice versa, and they’re both soaking wet from the drenching from the warm rain that’s falling, and Harry’s pressed back into the soil as it’s rapidly turning into mud, Scorpius astride him, his head bent as he nibbles Harry’s neck and his hands explore Harry’s chest.

Harry bucks up into him and wraps a hand around both of their cocks and begins stroking them slowly. Scorpius sits up and stares down at Harry’s hand as he strokes their erections together, his blue eyes riveted by the sight before they shoot upwards to meet Harry’s.

“I want to fuck you,” he breathes. “I have to.”

“Do it then,” Harry says, knowing that there’s no point in even pretending he doesn’t want this. He mutters the charm that every teenage boy with a liking for cock learns and Scorpius offered him his devastating grin again.

“Harry Potter, you surprise me,” Scorpius laughs and leans back down to kiss him as one of his fingers slides between Harry’s open thighs and tentatively circles Harry’s hole before dipping inside. “Are you ready now?”

In answer, Harry raises his thighs to his chest. Scorpius slides down the length of his body and kneels between them with Harry’s feet resting on his shoulders. He bites his lip in concentration as he fumbles briefly with his own cock and begins to nudge inside Harry. Harry watches the expressions chase across his pale face, the nerves, the excitement, the accomplishment when he’s fully inside and Harry can feel his balls tickling against his. With each expression Harry falls a little further in love with this young man.

“Fuck,” Scorpius groans, closing his eyes in the effort it’s taking him to keep still. “I can’t-”

“Then don’t,” Harry invites. “Move.”

Scorpius does, slowly pulling out and sliding back in again until he’s found a rhythm that sees his cock sliding over Harry’s prostrate repeatedly, and each thrust embeds Harry deeper in the mud beneath him as the rain continues to hammer them both and the storm rages above their heads.

It doesn’t take long; Harry is on the edge of orgasm without himself or Scorpius even touching his cock. When Scorpius does reach for it as Harry senses he was almost on the verge of his own release, Harry wraps his hand around his wrist and shakes his head, the back of his head squelching in the mud. “No – want to – without…”

Harry watches the understanding dawn on Scorpius’ face, sees the smile again, falls a little further as his vision begins to blur and he comes all over himself, completely untouched. The rain washes away the evidence as it escapes down in earnest over their writhing bodies. Harry closes his hands over the globes of Scorpius’ arse and says, “Don’t stop.”

Scorpius bites his lip again and says, “I won’t last much-”

Harry clenches his inner walls around Scorpius.

“Oh, fuck, Harry!” Scorpius shouts and he gives one final thrust and explodes with a muffled groan as he drops his head to Harry’s shoulder.

They lie there for long minutes, neither one speaking, their breathing returning to normal; and then Scorpius sits back on his haunches, leaving Harry empty.

Their eyes meet and neither dares to look away; Harry knows that for him, if he looks away then this is over, and he doesn’t want to it be. Scorpius is above him, he’s dripping wet from the rain and his knees and feet are caked in mud, his usually perfect hair is dishevelled and dripping down his chest, his cheeks are flushed and Harry’s suddenly so full of need that he almost can’t breathe.

He doesn’t ask though, he wants to say, ‘Come home with me,’ because there’s no way he’s continuing this inside the manor with Draco due home tomorrow, but he doesn’t because this has to come from Scorpius. Scorpius is the one with his whole life ahead of him and all the mistakes still to make; Harry’s a forty-four year old divorcee with three kids. He’s made most of his mistakes; and even though he’s sure that this is going to be the one and only time that this happens, he knows that this is not one of them.

This was meant to happen. His magic has never felt as alive as it did when Scorpius was inside him.

He doesn’t say ‘come home with me’, he says nothing and waits.

Scorpius releases his bitten lip and says, “Take me to your place?” His voice is thin and nervous and Harry’s heart clenches.

“Are you sure?”

“Never more so.”

“Hold on,” Harry says and Disapparates.

-0-

From that night on, Scorpius Malfoy doesn’t sleep under this parent’s roof again, not unless his boyfriend Harry is at his side.

Draco fires Harry and refuses to pay him for the work he had done; Astoria calls someone else in to finish the job and secretly pays Harry the money he’s due at the same time as she says, “Hurt him and I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll never hurt him,” Harry promises. “I love him.”

-0-


End file.
